The Two Towers
by David3
Summary: *Ch. 3 out* The adventures of a young man wanting to be Asha'man along with the WoT cast. PLEASE Read & Review!
1. Prologue: A Dream, and a Vision

Heya, all! I'm back (though whether that's a good thing or not you'll have to decide) :-p  
  
Disclaimer: I'm not making anything off of this!!! The almighty 1st paragraph of all WoT books is not my idea!  
  
  
  
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose over the farmland north of Caemlyn. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.  
  
White-laced trees, weighed down by masses of powdery snow, bent slightly in time to the breeze. Though it snowed no longer--for the time being, at least--a thin cloud of dusty white veiled the forest as wind helped lighten the trees' branches.  
  
Rumors had spread throughout Andor like wildfire. Some said Aiel raiders held Elayne Trakand, the Daughter-Heir of Andor, captive, while others swore they were serving as her own personal guard. Some believed that Artur Hawkwing's armies had returned from across the Aryth Ocean. The Dragon Reborn had returned to claim the Rose Crown--no, the Dragon Reborn was imprisoned in Far Madding, kneeling to the High Lady Suroth herself. A thousand other tales spun a web of confusion that entangled the whole countryside.  
  
Whatever tales the peddlers spread, Janin Ayenda believed none of them. Except for one, and he didn't really believe it. He only hoped-- letting himself take it for truth was too painful--but his eyes were drawn southwards more often than not, where he was certain a Black Tower trained men to channel.  
  
"Jan, are you awake? Light, you looked as if a girl asked you to dance on feastday!" Another boy, Tonin Elohan, strode towards him with a poorly disguised grin. Tonin was not one to make the girls look more than once, usually, but perhaps that was because he was not yet old enough to shave more than once a week. Nevertheless, his dark brown eyes were quick to light with humor.  
  
Janin shook his head and rolled his eyes even as his quivering lips betrayed him. "You wish, Ton!" After a minute of laughing, however, the two boys quieted; Tonin's gaze resting upon his house, and Janin's fixed to the southern sky.  
  
Janin was the first to speak. "Have you ever...wanted to do something? I don't mean work around the farm, Ton, so don't give me that look. I'm talking about something...different. I've heard rumors, Ton...rumors about the Black Tower. Have you," the last words came out in a rush, "ever wanted to be something larger than yourself? Have you ever wanted to channel?"  
  
Tonin let his eyes catch a small leaf, ravaged by winter, fall slowly to the ground. "I don't know what you're talking about, Jan. The," his tongue stumbled over the word, "Asha'man...they're maniacs. You've heard the stories, Jan. The stories of them going insane, breaking the world."  
  
As if he didn't hear, Janin continued, "Did you see the man in the black coat yesterday, Ton? The one with the long, black curls? He lifted a three-hundredweight block of granite without twitching!"  
  
"Is lifting rocks worth going insane?" Tonin asked softly. "Please, Jan, don't go near them. What else could be better about your life now? Give me one good reason--anything!--that makes going to the Black Tower better than staying here. Just one!"  
  
Janin looked at his friend sadly before stooping down to pick up the leaf near his friend's feet. "This leaf, once full and green, has been shriveled and destroyed by the winds of time. To be honest with you, Ton, I'm afraid. I'm afraid I'll go through life as the leaf did--being merely one out of millions, and powerless to do anything but bend to the cycle of nature." His voice picked up in intensity, but cracked almost imperceptibly, "I will not be the leaf, Ton; not in this life. By my hopes of rebirth and salvation under the Light, I will be Asha'man. And I will change the world. I won't be the leaf, Ton--I'll be the winter!" His eyes burned with fervor. He realized he had gripped Tonin's shoulders with both hands, and he removed them, blushing. "I'm sorry, Tonin. I...didn't mean to do that. I'm really sorry."  
  
Tonin stared at him wordlessly. His mind spun with what his friend had said. Leaf. Winter. He horrified himself when he looked at his home- -the home he had lived in and loved for years--and saw but one tiny piece of the gigantic puzzle that was Andor. Unbidden tears slid down his cheeks. The Light burn you for it, Janin, but you may be right!  
  
Janin mistook his friend's expression. Disgusted and angry with himself, he started to walk away slowly. He stopped as he heard his friend's voice call him.  
  
"Janin." Tonin turned to look at him. "Jan, please come back. I think...I think you're right. I just need...I need some time, okay? My fifteenth name day is less than a month behind me...I just don't know. It sounds too good to be true, being an Asha'man-what happens if we go mad? Anyways...it's getting late. I need to go home now."  
  
Janin smiled, if a little weakly. "Sure, Ton. I need to be getting back to my place, too. I have some," his smile faded as he nearly spat the next word out, "firewood to split for the furnace."  
  
Biting his lower lip and frowning, Tonin nodded, and the two friends parted. Both bowed their heads against a wind that was not really there.  
  
***  
  
"You seem quieter than usual, Janin, which is saying a lot. What's on your mind?" Mistress Ayenda asked, sipping a mug of hot tea.  
  
Janin looked down at his barely touched breakfast. "I've been thinking, mother."  
  
Mistress Ayenda tilted her head. "About what, Janin dear?"  
  
"It's...hard to explain, and if I could, I'm not sure I'd want to." Janin winced-- that was about the worst way to keep a secret that he could think of.  
  
Instead of taking offense, Mistress Ayenda laughed softly. "Found a sweetheart, have you? It's about time, Janin! I was beginning to worry--" she cut off as she saw him frown.  
  
He sighed and shook his head. "It's not that."  
  
A worried frown creased Mistress Ayenda's forehead. "What is it then? The Light knows you can talk to me, Janin--for the love of the Light, I'm your mother!"  
  
Dark blue eyes downcast, he ran his tongue through the back of his lips nervously. "I...I'll tell you about it later." He pushed himself up from the table and decided to go see Tonin. I need to talk things over, but not with you, mother. I'm sorry.  
  
Biting the inside of her cheek, she sighed softly and nodded. Best not to push the boy. He'll come out with it when he's ready. The sound of his footsteps heading towards the door caused her to call out, "Be back by dark, Janin, and stay away from those black-coated fellows! They make my skin crawl!"  
  
Cursing silently, Janin clenched his fists and quickened his pace.  
  
***  
  
Master Elohan was waiting at the door as Tonin arrived at his house. "Where in the Light have you been, Tonin? Playing with Janin again?" At Tonin's nod, he continued, "Well, I suppose there are worse things to do with your time. Either way, I'm heading into Caemlyn for a while; your mother's been nagging me about getting a new pair of breeches for you for the past week."  
  
Tonin's breath caught in his throat. Caemlyn! Light, I have the luck of ta'veren! "Can I come with you, father? I haven't been to Caemlyn in forever, and the Light knows I can choose my own breeches better than you could." He laughed nervously at the last, failing terribly to sound nonchalant.  
  
Master Elohan peered at him suspiciously. "What's gotten into you, Tonin? You're not very good at keeping a secret. Anything happen between you and Janin?"  
  
Tonin looked away and sighed. "Not exactly, father. I would like to go Caemlyn, though..."  
  
Master Elohan shrugged. "Well, I have no problems with it. Go and ask your mother--I'll be readying the wagon in the meantime." After a few moments had passed and still Tonin remained motionless, he added, "Light, boy, something is wrong with you! A minute ago you were jumping to come along."  
  
Tonin dragged himself away from his thoughts. "Sorry, father...I was just thinking. I'll go to mother now."  
  
Shaking his head, Master Elohan started packing his cart. A minute later, he could just make out the sound of hoof beats pounding the path behind him.  
  
***  
  
Janin dismounted his horse and tied it to one of Master Elohan's fence posts. Calling from a distance, he shouted, "Master Elohan, may I see Tonin for a minute?"  
  
"He'll be back here in a minute, Janin. He's talking to his mother about coming with me to Caemlyn for a quick...shopping trip." He smiled faintly at the last comment.  
  
Janin's eyes went wide. "Caemlyn, Master Elohan? Is there any way I can come with you and Ton? I'd really enjoy a look at it, now that Elayne has supposedly taken control of the city." He really hoped he sounded convincing--he didn't care a whit about the bloody Daughter-Heir of Andor or even Caemlyn itself. He barely kept from cringing when Master Elohan stared him up and down.  
  
"Tonin did the same thing when I told him about going to the bloody city! What's gotten into you boys?" Flatly, he added, "Anything I should know about?"  
  
With a sickly grin, Janin gave his shoulders a weak shrug. "I don't think so, sir."  
  
Twisting his mouth in frustration, Master Elohan shrugged helplessly. "Well, if you're going to be stubborn, there's nothing I can do about it." Almost as an afterthought, he said, "I'm sure your mother wasn't expecting you to go all the way to Caemlyn tonight. Wait a second," he cried, raising a hand as he saw Janin heading towards his horse, "my wife's heading over to your mother's to gossip." Grinning, he continued, "I'll ask her to tell your mother that you'll be gone. How about that?"  
  
Breathing a sigh of relief, Janin grinned. "Thanks, Master Elohan. I'd appreciate that."  
  
Seeing Janin's smile, he said, "That's more like it, my boy! Here, help me pack this Light-forsaken wagon so that we can get out of here all the quicker."  
  
***  
  
The ride to Caemlyn itself was uneventful. The New City rose up before the two friends, bold in its magnificence, but they only had eyes for black cloaks. Their eyes swept through the crowds, cutting through noble and beggar alike, searching for any sign at all of a man who could channel.  
  
The actual trip lasted around two hours. Most of the time passed quickly for Janin, except for the last fifteen minutes.  
  
I"What's wrong?" Tonin had asked. "Why aren't you happy we're coming to Caemlyn? We might see one of them, Jan!"  
  
Janin sighed. "Do you think I don't know that? I'm worried, Ton...what if we...can't? What if we walk up to them and they tell us that we can't channel? I don't know if I could live with that."  
  
Tonin bit his lip and stared out the window. After moments had passed, he turned back around. "Maybe that would be for the best, Jan. Only a select few have the privilege to go mad, you know." His feeble attempt at humor slid unnoticed past his friend.  
  
Janin rubbed his eyes. "I've never not been good enough for anything, Ton. The only reason I'm not a better farmer is that I don't try. I know it is. Light, Ton, I'm scared. I have to be good enough for this! I have to!"I  
  
An elbow brought him out of his reverie. "You have to what, Jan?" Janin shook his head and was about to speak when their wagon ground to a halt. Master Elohan's voice drifted through the wagon cover, "All right, boys, we're at the clothes shop." Hearing no response, he nimbly climbed out of his driver's seat and stuck his head inside the cart. "Light, boys, a few minutes ago you were excited about getting clothes...ah, I see. You didn't really come here for clothes, did you?" He sighed and shook his head. "I really don't mind if you go off on your own for a while," he lowered his head conspiratorially, "if your mothers don't hear about it."  
  
The boys laughed and fervently agreed. Five minutes later, they found themselves heading towards the nearest inn. Asha'man have to eat, don't they? Jonin had asked his friend earlier, while they were deciding where they should go. He caught a glimpse of a stark-white coat in the crowd, and couldn't help but blurt out, "I wonder what the Children of the Light would think about our mad quest to become Asha'man?"  
  
Tonin snickered and started to reply when a grizzled old man in black woolens blocked their paths, smiling slightly.  
  
"I don't think they'd approve of it at all, lad." 


	2. The Aftermath

Rand al'Thor filled himself with saidin for the thousandth time--for the ten thousandth time--since he had awoken that morning. The Light burn me, it's clean! It's...wonderful.  
  
The door to his chambers opened to reveal a beaming Nynaeve. "I see you're finally up, Rand. It's been a week since you cleansed the Source at Shadar Logoth. You wouldn't think anything's changed, hearing the stories from Elayne. It seems that your weapons are as potent clean as tainted." She peered at him closely for a second. "Cadsuane said that you heard...voices...while saidin was tainted, Rand. Do you still hear them?"  
  
Rand shook his head; Lews Therin had indeed been quiet for the hours he had been awake. To his surprise, Nynaeve's poorly hidden sigh of relief didn't anger him. "Narishma told me, but I almost didn't believe I'd been unconscious for a week." With a crooked grin, he added, "Did the world get by without me?"  
  
Nynaeve shook her head and laughed softly. "You are different now, Rand al'Thor. A month ago, you would have dragged anyone who even thought of making a joke in your presence to the Asha'man."  
  
"The world is different, Nynaeve. I'm afraid that Egwene will have quite a job of destroying the Black Tower now," he almost smiled at Nynaeve's shocked stare, "because men will be flocking to it now that they can channel without going mad. I've already sent Flinn out to scout the streets of Caemlyn for likely Soldiers."  
  
Nynaeve put her hands on her hips. "Elayne won't be best pleased when she finds out what you're doing. Light, that Taim fellow nearly choked on his tongue the last time she visited your Tower!" She lowered her voice and looked worriedly at Rand. "I'm surprised she hasn't gotten herself killed, the way she's talked to him. You've got to talk some sense into her! Just because she's a bloody queen doesn't mean she's invincible!"  
  
Rand's smile almost touched his eyes. "I think that some of my policies in the Black Tower will keep Taim from doing anything serious. He's not foolish enough to test my wrath while I hold Callandor."  
  
Nynaeve's mouth tightened. "Let's hope he can keep his temper on a leash when Cadsuane visits him in a couple of days--" she cut off as she saw anger flare in Rand's eyes.  
  
"Whatever Min says, I've had enough of that woman. I'm not sure I'd try to stop him if Cadsuane pushed him too far. Light, Nynaeve, maybe Taim would teach her some respect!" Rand didn't notice that he sounded more sullen than anything.  
  
Maybe you could use a little humility yourself, My Lord Dragon, Nynaeve thought to herself ruefully.  
  
Rand must have caught her expression, because his face darkened. "Either way, what in the Light would my trusted advisor want with Mazrim Taim?"  
  
Nynaeve smiled sweetly. "I have no idea."  
  
Rand scowled briefly, but it turned into a sigh. There aren't many times when I wish that the woman in front of me had sworn the Three Oaths, but this is one of them.  
  
***  
  
Moridin trembled as he knelt before the Great Lord. Uncontrollable fear marred the ecstasy the Great Lord's voice usually inspired.  
  
YOU HAVE FAILED ME, NAE'BLIS.  
  
Moridin's tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. He thought furiously, trying to find a way out of the situation the other Chosen had placed him in. Burn you, Demandred! Burn you all!  
  
He composed his features before addressing the Dark Lord--not that it did him any good, however. "Great Lord, I ordered the Chosen to bring the Keys to me! I had no idea that the Aes Sedai primitives would ruin everything! I had them!"  
  
FAILURE DOES NOT GO UNPUNISHED, NAE'BLIS. YOU KNOW THIS.  
  
Tears streaked down Moridin's face. "No, please! Great Lord, I am your servant to the last!"  
  
YOU HAVE ONE LAST OPPORTUNITY TO PROVE YOUR LOYALTY TO THE SHADOW. ONLY ONE.  
  
Moridin cringed even as his head came up like an eager dog's. "How may I serve you, Great Lord?"  
  
***  
  
Mazrim Taim frowned. He had, admittedly, been doing a lot of that lately, but the tales of the Seanchan that reached him through his eyes-and-ears were especially disturbing.  
  
He heard--more like felt--a Dedicated enter his chambers. "What brings you here, Dedicated?" he snapped.  
  
Taken aback, the youth of around eighteen years straightened smartly. "A message came from the Lord Dragon himself, M'Hael. He plans to visit the Tower tomorrow to...implement new policies."  
  
Taim's mouth tightened at the boy's visible cringe. Light, does he really think I would kill a Dedicated for bringing me a message? "You have done well, Dedicated. Tell the Lord Dragon to meet me in the na'dara to discuss these changes." He smirked inwardly; na'dara loosely translated to 'battlefield' or, more importantly, 'arena' in the Old Tongue.  
  
With a fist to chest, the young man turned, and then stopped. "Permission to form a Gateway, M'Hael?"  
  
Taim nodded impatiently. As soon as the boy was gone, he sat back down in his dragon-engraved chair. Glowering at the mass of papers piling on top of his desk, he unconsciously lashed out at an Andoran vase, making fragments of glass fly a good five paces in each direction. He shook his head and grimaced. Had the taint still existed, there would have been nothing left of it!  
  
Mazrim Taim had never understood why so many men had fallen prey to the ravages of saidin. It was a simple matter of willpower--he did not accept the taint, therefore it had no power over his mind. He laughed softly. Saidin tainted was a weapon for him; without the taint's aid, he feared he could not keep an iron fist of fear around the throats of the Black Tower initiates.  
  
Saidin cleansed, however, left him with more possibilities than it destroyed. Taim estimated the Tower would double in size by year's end because of it.  
  
Thinking about the latter, Taim snarled silently. At least that would give him something to put in his progress reports to the Lord Dragon.  
  
***  
  
Demandred pounded his fist against the wall in frustration. The corpses of Gedwyn, Rochaid, and Torval lay prostrate at his feet. You have paid the price for your failure, fools, yet so have I!  
  
For the first time in his life, one of Demandred's brilliant strategies failed him. It was too easy, masquerading as this Black Tower's M'Hael. He still sneered every time he heard that term--none in this age could rightfully call themselves 'leader'. All of them were weak, self- destructive primitives.  
  
Demandred sighed and glanced at the bodies. If these three could be convinced, still others could. A smile colder than ice turned up the corners of his lips.  
  
And then the true M'Hael will rule once more.  
  
***  
  
Cadsuane Melaidhrin idly fingered her dark green hair ornaments. "It seems my work with the al'Thor boy is finished for the present, wouldn't you say, Verin?"  
  
Verin shrugged and fixed Cadsuane a birdlike gaze. "You may have tamed the Lord Dragon, Cadsuane, but you have not dealt with the Black Tower. However formidable you are, there are few walking the earth with colder blood than Mazrim Taim."  
  
Cadsuane tossed her head irritably. "I've dealt with that one before-- he'll be no trouble."  
  
Verin sighed audibly. "When you saw him last, he was shielded and caged. He might not appreciate the sight of one who treated him...the way you did."  
  
Cadsuane's mouth tightened. "Dear me, Verin, I do hope you haven't lost perspective on our mission. We must teach al'Thor and the Asha'man to laugh, and to cry. Maybe giving Taim a spanking will forward that goal," she added, smiling wryly.  
  
Verin shook her head in resignation. "I've always admired your confidence, Cadsuane. Let's hope it's enough."  
  
Cadsuane leaned back in her chair and resisted the temptation to rub her eyes. She was going to pay the Black Tower a visit, though not for the reasons that most suspected. Even if she was al'Thor's advisor at present, she would not--could not!--forget her loyalty to the White Tower. Men who could channel had to be dealt with, and Cadsuane Melaidhrin would see it done. 


	3. A Breaking and a Joining

"You're one of them, aren't you?" Janin almost whispered.  
  
The old man smiled and shrugged. "Perhaps, lad, but it's best not to mention such things on the streets of Caemlyn. The Queen, being the Aes Sedai that she is, doesn't...appreciate...the idea of men channeling and the like." After a few moments' pause, he added, "Are you lads awake? I could have sworn you talked a minute ago."  
  
The boys visibly jerked. Tonin was the first to break the silence. "You don't sound mad at all, for a man who can channel." He almost cursed at his insensitivity--a tentative glance at Janin revealed what his friend thought of the comment.  
  
The man, however, took no offense. Instead, he cracked a grin and lowered his voice. "You haven't heard yet, boys? The Lord Dragon has cleansed saidin. There's no danger in channeling anymore--at least, not from the taint."  
  
The two friends exchanged excited looks before Tonin remembered what the man had said last. "What do you mean by that?"  
  
The grizzled man sighed and looked away. "Sometimes it was difficult to tell whether the taint or the men at the top of the Black Tower were more dangerous. The Tower is no place for youths, boy. Some things that go on there curdle my stomach, and I've seen more battles in my lifetime than any man rightly should."  
  
Janin finally spoke up. "Whatever it is, it's worth it to me, sir. I would give anything to channel, sir--anything in the world and more." Tonin hesitated briefly before nodding his assent.  
  
The man fixed them with a sharp stare. "That's why you came here, isn't it?" After two quiet nods, he continued, angrily, "Your parents don't know about this, I'll wager. The M'Hael might take lads who are too young to shave off the street and away from their families, but I won't. No, lads, you won't be coming to the Black Tower--at least for another couple of years. Come back when you know what you're about; when you do, you won't want to come back in the first place." He gathered up his woolens and started to leave.  
  
Desperately, Janin shouted after him, "I have but one more question for you! Can we channel?"  
  
The man stopped, and with a pained expression the boys could not see, replied softly, "Yes, lads. You both can."  
  
Tonin simply stared after the man, though whether in relief or resignation he could not tell. Janin couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. When his body chose the latter, he slumped against the side of a building. Oh, Light! I can channel!  
  
***  
  
Master Elohan looked up sharply as two figures approached his wagon, and then relaxed when he saw who they were. "You're back early, boys. Not find what you were looking for?" He peered closely at Janin. "You're eyes are red, lad. Something happen?"  
  
Janin started studying the ground intensely. He was more than a little surprised when Tonin spoke up.  
  
"We ran into an Asha'man today, father. We asked him, and he told us we could...channel."  
  
Master Elohan's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "What in the name of the Light were you two thinking?" he hissed angrily. "They're madmen, every one of them, and liars too, I'll wager. You'd better hope I don't catch either one of you near one of them again."  
  
Janin looked up. "He said that saidin was cleansed, Master Elohan, by the Dragon Reborn himself. He really was a kind old man--he actually told us the Black Tower was no place for us, and that we shouldn't go."  
  
Master Elohans' stare hardened. "I don't care what he said, Janin. I will not have you or Tonin going off and getting yourselves killed because you think that life is some flaming adventure!"  
  
Janin drew himself up. "Maybe I think that life means more than working on a farm for the rest of my life! Maybe I think that life is more than doing what your whole family has done before you!" Fresh tears of anger flowed from his eyes.  
  
Master Elohan's face twisted in rage. "Some might call farming a more noble occupation than obliterating people for personal enjoyment! Some might call farming a more rewarding life than going mad and bloody well destroying the flaming world in the pig-kissing process!" He moderated his tone, but it was dangerous nevertheless. "I'm leaving now, Janin, and so are you."  
  
Janin shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, Master Elohan. I've found my true calling, and I can't let anything get in the way of that, now. Even...even the people I love." Without looking back, he turned and melted into the crowd.  
  
***  
  
Tonin Elohan lay on his bed and wept. Three hours had passed since he left Caemlyn, and after an interrogation that would have done the Dome of Truth proud, he had come upstairs exhausted. He had found out, however, that his room had no rest to offer. Maybe I could sleep, if I could get Janin out of my flaming head!  
  
The truth was, it was not just the thought of Janin that kept him awake. Something was wrong inside his head--whenever he thought of Caemlyn, an ever-intensifying pain jabbed at his brain.  
  
In his heart, he knew he had to go. In his head, however, he knew he had to stay. If he set one foot outside of his house in the next week, he would be worse than dead--his father had promised him that, and he believed it, though how he could survive a week without his skull popping was something he had yet to reason out.  
  
He was still swamped in a mire of indecision when the sound of his door opening dragged him from his thoughts. Tonin appreciated the interruption, though--those Light-forsaken daggers of pain subsided at his mother's voice.  
  
"Tonin, dear, I know this is hard on you, but you've got to let Janin go. Something was wrong with him--maybe that accursed Power drove him mad--but you've got to understand that we're not blaming you for this at all. The Light knows this has been hard on us as well--Pamaile Ayenda has been our friend for years, and still is--but sometimes you just have to pick yourself up and continue on, even when something like this happens. It doesn't matter how you do it, but you've got to get on with your life. When tomorrow comes, I don't want to see any sulking from you."  
  
Tonin took a deep breath. Thank you, Mother, for making my decision for me. "You won't, mother. I promise."  
  
His mother nodded, and once again he was left alone. I will get on with life, Mother; just not the way you would have me choose.  
  
Tonin walked to his window and opened it. Luckily for him, his house was not a tall one--a mere three paces spanned the distance between him and the ground. With agility he did not know he possessed, he squeezed through the opening and landed lightly on the soil below.  
  
Once he dusted himself off, he headed over to his stables and led out his most trustworthy horse. I'll need to send you back home when I get to Caemlyn, Roger. It's a good thing my parents forgot to unsaddle you, or I might have had to choose Breanna instead. He laughed softly to himself-- Breanna was by far the loudest creature he had ever encountered.  
  
Once he reached the road, Tonin mounted and took a final look at his home. I'm sorry I'm doing this, Father. You must trust me, though. After taking a steadying breath, he dug his heels into Roger's flanks and galloped away towards his destiny.  
  
***  
  
Not for the first time, Janin Ayenda regretted ever leaving Master Elohan. The sun's final rays were beginning to fade into shadow, and he had no more idea of what to do next than he had six hours ago.  
  
His hunger, thirst, or exhaustion was not what bothered him most, however. About an hour earlier, he had started getting headaches whenever he thought of Tonin--which was, admittedly, a lot. An invisible hand seemed to be pushing him westwards, though to what it was pushing him towards remained a mystery.  
  
As the crowds started thinning and the shadows seemed to lengthen, Janin began to worry. He had heard rumors of the district he was entering, and none of them were good. One thing that he knew for sure was that the Caemlyn dungeons were located there. I'm not a flaming criminal, so why lead me here, of all places?  
  
He looked around warily and caught sight of an unusual procession--a short column Whitecloaks were leading a hapless prisoner into a dark building with no windows. That must be the dungeon! Come to think of it, what in the name of the Light are Whitecloaks doing in Andor?  
  
Slinking into the shadows, he started to walk away when he realized his head didn't hurt anymore. He risked a final look back at the prisoner, and his jaw fell open when he realized that it was Tonin.  
  
***  
  
The stark white cloak that hung from Lieutenant-Commander Eldrian Covalla's shoulders provided a dim contrast at best to the bleak walls of the Caemlyn dungeons. He regretted having to set up his operations in such a mundane facility, but it could not be helped for the present. His orders from the Lord Captain Commander were explicit--he had to keep his presence subtle enough to evade Andoran authorities.  
  
He found it hard to follow the Lord Captain Commander's decree at times-- there were so many Darkfriends loose in Andor, and the Light knows how much better the world would be without them--but his duty to Eamon Valda was his duty to the Light.  
  
He glanced over at the two prisoners occupying the cell in front of him and sighed. He truly did not look forward to writing his report to the Hand of the Light, but such things had to be done. He picked up a pen and began to write on a nearby piece of parchment.  
  
My Lord Captain Commander--  
  
One of my patrols encountered a young Darkfriend on the road north of Caemlyn. It had to be a Darkfriend, for it nearly killed its mount trying to escape us. When subdued, it claimed to have been searching for a friend in the city itself. Naturally, I took the liberty to investigate the incident.  
  
Quite fortuitously for my men, the 'friend' this Darkfriend spoke of attempted a rescue. It failed, of course, and now the other boy is confined as well. We have made preparations for an Inquisitor to drag the truth out of these Darkfriends, for they have proven most unwilling to admit their guilt and walk in the Light. Should anything be revealed, the information will be passed to you immediately.  
  
May the blessings of the Light be upon you,  
  
Lieutenant-Commander Eldrian Covalla  
  
***  
  
Tonin nearly choked in surprise as a second body was thrown into his cell. "Jan! How in the name of the Light did you end up here?"  
  
With a wry smile, Janin replied, "I could ask you the same thing, Ton. I thought you had gone back with your father."  
  
Tonin shook his head. "I did, Jan, but I couldn't stay. I left an hour after midday, but I didn't go three miles before I saw a camp practically set up in the middle of the road. I realized too late that they were Whitecloaks. Light, Jan, those men are crazy! No matter what I said, they made it sound as if I were a Darkfriend."  
  
Janin rubbed his eyes slowly. "I'm not sure what happened myself, Ton. I saw a small army of Whitecloaks with a prisoner and, after a while, found out that the prisoner was you. I tried to tell them that I was your friend, but I get the feeling that it was the wrong thing to say, because here I am, locked up in a dungeon. Oh, blood and bloody ashes, Ton! How are we going to get out of this?"  
  
Tonin gripped the iron bars of his cell in frustration. "I don't know, Jan. I've heard stories about the Whitecloaks...about how they get their information..." he shuddered involuntarily at the thought. Janin nodded grimly and looked outside of the cell to find the Whitecloak's commander he had talked to earlier. There has to be a way to convince him we're not Darkfriends.  
  
His train of thought was interrupted when he saw the lock on his cage turn white with heat and melt away. 


End file.
